


Express Delivery

by mollrach13



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Modern Era, Pining, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollrach13/pseuds/mollrach13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur owns Pendragon Tools, sticks his foot in his mouth occasionally and is a bit of a prat. </p><p>based on this prompt from kinkme: "Arthur owns a small business and Merlin is the delivery guy who occasionally brings him packages he orders. When Arthur finds himself ordering things he doesn't need just so Merlin will show up, he knows he's got it bad"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Express Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> posted on my LJ ages ago but cleaned up and based on this prompt from kinkme_merlin:"Arthur owns a small business and Merlin is the delivery guy who occasionally brings him packages he orders. When Arthur finds himself ordering things he doesn't need just so Merlin will show up, he knows he's got it bad"

EXPRESS DELIVERY

 

It all started with drill bits.

“Leon!” Arthur called from his office as the bell on the front counter went again. “Leon!” he yelled again.

Huffing, Arthur pushed himself away from his desk, and his quarterly sales figures, and came grumbling into the shop proper.

The shop was small, but not cramped. The walls neatly packed with everything one might need for DIY or, for the more adventurous, build something for themselves. It was bright, the large windows spanning the front of the shop allowing the mid-day sun to seep through the blinds, casting shadows along the polished wooden floor.

“Can I help-“ but Arthur stopped. 

He lifted his eyes from the floor in front of him to slowly trail up over a pair of large boots, up a pair of lovely long, pale legs, scattered with dark hair, to a just-tight-enough pair of shorts… a small cough made him shoot his head up to eye level… oh – gorgeous blue eyes. 

“Um… hi,” Arthur finished lamely. 

The tall dark stranger grinned, causing Arthur’s eyes to zero in on the deliciously plump lips spreading into a manic grin, that on someone else would have been ridiculous, on this man Arthur found it… adorable?

“I’ve got a package,” the man stated. Arthur’s eyes nearly swopped back down again to the just-tight-enough-but-oh-if-only-they-were-a-bit-tighter shorts but quickly stopped himself with a shake of the head.

“Right,” he squeaked, slightly alarmed that his cognitive brain functions had been highly damaged by his wank-banks collective love child.

The gorgeous being stood in his shop seemed slightly worried as well as his gaze turned pitying and he held out his clipboard. “You just need to sign.”

Arthur took the board and pen from him, staring at the implements dumbly for a second before darting his gaze back up at the man… who was helpfully waving his hand in a way that Arthur thought must resemble signing.

Finally, aware that he was standing around like a moron, Arthur cleared his throat and quickly signed the paper, thrusting it back at the man.

“I’ll just leave you pack here.” The man patted the brown box he had left on the counter. “And have a nice day.”

Once the shop door had been closed for a good few seconds Arthur rushed to the blinds, peeking out to watch those long pale limbs disappear back into his truck and drive away.

“What is this?” Leon’s voice sounded from behind him. Arthur was too busy watching the van drive away, like some love addled novel damsel. “This isn’t what we ordered.”

Arthur grunted rather eloquently in reply.

“Did you even check the package before you signed?”

Arthur managed to send a small sheepish smile over his shoulder which caused Leon to huff. Leon started to mutter something about refunds or lack of stock but Arthur’s brain couldn’t really follow that right now.

“Leon,” he said urgently, finally turning from the window once the van had rounded the corner. “Quickly, what do we need that I can order for delivery?”

Leon looked at Arthur with an incredulous eyebrow raised, before glancing back at the package in front of him then back up again.

“Erm… Drill Bits!?”

**

Arthur wasn’t going to be caught unawares again.

If that meant he had to sit at the counter in the store, directly in front of the main door, all day, then so be it.

After the fourth time a customer had to be led gently away from him by an apologetic Leon, Arthur was starting to question the wisdom of his decision. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was talking about – this hardware store had been his fathers, he had grown up here, and he had made every single piece of furniture in his house – it was that everyone else were idiots. I mean - who sands their porch with a Fisher 2000 – come on!

The bell chimed over the door, signifying a new occupant too the shop, breaking Arthur out of his scowl.

It was him. 

Arthur quickly schooled his features and drew his shoulders back. “Ah, it’s you.”

The delivery man came up to the counter a sheepish smile on his face. “Yes, it’s me again.” He dropped the package on the desk in front of Arthur and gave an – adorable – little wave. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek to stop him from smiling.

“And I trust you have the right package this time?” Arthur said imperiously, raising one eyebrow and delighting in the blush that crept over the man’s pale cheek bones

“Ah yes sorry about that – it’s my first week,” he gave a self-deprecating shrug. “My mother always said you learn from every mistake.”

“I can see how one would find it easy to mistake Pendragon hardware with,” Arthur lifted the mis-delivered package and inspected the address label , “Miss Betsy’s Bakery Emporium.”

His sarcastic tone caused a blush to creep high over the large ears now burning bright red

“You know, you’re a bit of a prat aren’t you?”

“And you are a bit of an idiot.”

The man scowled, an adorable little crease appearing between his eyebrows. “If you could just sign here,” he huffed, shoving his clipboard under Arthur’s nose

After a great show of double checking the package address label, twice, during which the frown got even deeper and the blush even redder, Arthur signed before the clipboard was snatched from his fingers. Inside Arthur’s inner child was doing a giddy dance.

“Have a good day sir,” the man huffed, the door chime sounding and then slamming in his wake.

It wasn’t until Arthur had rushed to the window to watch the van skid away and sped down the road that he thought those might not have been the best tactics to take.

**

After a few weeks Arthur had discovered a few things. One: that the man wore tighter shorts when he delivered on Thursdays and Fridays, two: he was adorable when he scowled a just delightful when he blushed, and three: that Arthur might just be a little bit screwed.

He couldn’t deny that it hadn’t been bad for sales. Contrary to what Leon liked to bemoan, Arthur was good at what he did, with the right customer he could sell them almost anything. 

After he had already sold them all out of carpet trimmers and convinced one lucky customer to buy their entire stock of four inch nails, Arthur sat down at his desk in his office, ordering another load of extra coarse sand paper.

“This is becoming one of your things isn’t it?” Leon’s voice sounded from over Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur peered round to see Leon propped, his arms crossed, against the door frame. “What do you mean?” he asked dismissively, turning back to his computer and selecting express delivery.

“I mean one of your things, your infatuations.” Arthur scoffed but Leon continued. “Like the time you decided that Sophia at the diner was the one for you and forced me to eat there every single lunchtime, until you discovered she was soul sucking wench and now I am not even allowed to step foot in there after you got me addicted to their curly fries.”

“That was different,” Arthur huffed. “Sophia was a soul sucking wench and the cleanliness of their kitchen his highly questionable.”

“Or,” Leon continued as if Arthur hadn’t spoken, “that time when you decided that you would take up knitting so you could get closer to Gwen and bought a bulk batch of Argyle wool which is now sat in my loft.”

“It wasn’t my fault that Gwen was already in love with Lance, how was I supposed to know that?!”

“Arthur, a demented bird watching from space could have told you those two were meant to be together.”

“Fine,” Arthur huffed, clicking the button to finish his purchase. 

‘Your Delivery will be with you in less than 48 hours’ popped up onto the screen and Arthur felt a wave of calm come over him. 

Leon sighed again, deep suffering, and Arthur thought it was quiet melodramatic.

“You might want to find out his name,” Leon called over his shoulder as he walked away. “You can’t keep refereeing to him as the ‘tight panted delivery boy’.”

**

Arthur went to bed that night, grand ideas of elaborate seduction techniques over clipboards and parcel tape. 

Then the morning came with a call from Morgana and a request (read: order) for a dressers for her newly decorated bedroom. Which of course needed a personal visit and a dinner to discuss.

Then a meeting with the bank.

Then a frantic Lance turning up at the shop babbling something about breaking his and Gwen’s porch swing and how it just had to be fixed right now because it was where they spent their evenings and the moonlight shined from Gwen’s hair – then Arthur tuned him out, grabbed his tool kit and followed him from the store.

Along with a lunch with his father and a flat tire meant that it had been a week and Arthur hadn’t seen his delivery boy once.

He tried not to pout when he tore into the store only to find Leon opening their latest order, an amused grin on his face signalling that Arthur had just missed him again.

**

As much as it even pained Arthur think it, Leon was right. There was no other word for what Arthur was doing now – sulking.

But not – Leon – like a little school girl. This was manly, butch sulking… He was wearing plaid for god’s sake.

And Arthur-sulk’s were never just sulking. It was prime opportunity to ponder, and think. Thinking led to plans, and plans led to fruition (fruition being Arthur in a bed of crisp white sheets, his delivery boy beneath him, still in his little cap, and a roll of parcel tape in Arthur’s hands….. Ok – that was weird but he couldn’t help where his, very horny, imagination went).

The bell tolled signalling a new customer to the store. But Arthur couldn’t care less.

Leon had taken his ordering privileges away, hidden his laptop and changed the password to their online account. He said ‘over ordering wasn’t cost effect in this economic climate’ or some other such drivel. 

There was the sound of shuffling feet, and a small uncomfortable cough when Arthur still hadn’t looked up from the grooves of the hard wood counter propping him up. But Arthur wasn’t in the mood today.

He pushed his, very helpful, ‘Ring the bell for assistance’ sign (where someone had crossed out assistance and written LEON in big capital letters) forward along the counter.

“Wow,” a disembodied voice sounded. “Your customer service is a bit lacking today.”

Arthur nearly fell from his stool in his haste to sit up straight.

His legs were covered, in skin tight dark denim, a pair of beat up converse on his feet instead of boots, and there was no clipboard. But the eyes, and ears, were unmistakable.

“It’s the,“ but he stopped himself, “it’s delivery boy.”

The man quirked an eyebrow before glancing down at himself. “Off duty today. Today I am just attempting-DIY boy.”

Arthur couldn’t help the snort that escaped at the thought of this man doing anything more strenuous than changing a light bulb.

“Hey!” came an indignant response. “Heaving pompous prat’s packages around all day isn’t exactly featherweight work.”

“Have you ever even tried DIY before?”

“Yes! I made my mother’s coffee table.” Arthur raised an eyebrow waiting for the rest of that sentence, “… it may have been flat packed though.”

**

An hour passed of teasing and flirting. The boy’s jibes and insults softened by his blinding grin.

And the touches – to Arthur’s arm, to his back, his fingers... he didn’t realise he had this many erogenous zones. 

“.. it’s really not so difficult,” Arthur finished, explaining, again, the advantages of well made, handmade furniture.

“Oh I don’t know – it looks a bit tricky. I don’t think my fingers would be quite up to the job.”

Arthur took a look a quick look at said fingers, they were long, and graceful, and had been driving Arthur insane all afternoon. He was two seconds away from commenting that the fingers seemed perfect for the job Arthur had in mind, he quickly bit his tongue and hastily cast out for another topic of conversation.

“Can’t be much trickier than your current hobby. Takes a real talent to deliver parcels I bet,” Arthur smirked. He looked away to fight his threatening blush and didn’t notice that his answering smile was a little strained.

“Ah,” the boy muttered. “It’s probably a lot trickier than you imagine.”

“Oh most definitely. Tell me – what degree did you have to take? A Bachelors in address matching?” Arthur fiddled with the spanner display, tidying it needlessly, trying to find the wording in his head to suggest they move this discussion to the bar down the road.

It wasn’t until he felt cold air by his side that he looked up.

Those gorgeous blue eyes were shuttered with a shimmer of hurt and the boy was backing away to the door.

Arthur blinked, and gave a confused frown. “Hey – where you off to?”

“I have to go,” the boy mumbled, the crease between his eyebrow’s the definitely non-cute kind. “I am sure I will see you on my rounds sir”

And then the door chimed and Arthur was alone.

“Excellently played Arthur.” He looked up to see Leon lounging in the doorway to the store room. “No really – real smooth.” 

Arthur stood dumbfounded for a moment going back over everything his lust addled mind had spewed out before realisation spread across his face.

“There you go,” Leon commented as Arthur’s eyes went round. He waited a few more moments where Arthur didn’t move, just contemplated if it was possible to staple gun you lips together. “Go on,” Leon nudged. “Go after him.”

**

“Wait!” Arthur called running through the closing door. The boy stopped just short of his van and peered cautiously over his shoulder. On anyone else Arthur would swear they were being purposefully coy but on this man – it was just naturally stunning.

Arthur stopped in front of the man, slightly breathless. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

The man snorted. “A big bloody foot.” 

“Maybe- Maybe we should start over?”

“I don’t know…” He looked back over his shoulder towards his van, his blue eyes shining with indecision, his body angling away from Arthur like he was planning on making a break for it. Arthur wouldn’t allow that.

“Hi, I’m Arthur.”

Arthur thrust his hand out, bridging the gap between them. The boy watched it for a moment but then slowly, as if waiting for the punch line, extended his own forward until it grasped in Arthurs. Warm, a little clammy, but oh so right.

And then he grinned, “I’m Merlin.”

THE END


End file.
